When You Go Through The Valley
by Dracoisalooker76
Summary: Peeta Mellark is seventeen and dying from terminal cancer. With the help of his best friends, Finnick and Johanna, he has made a list of everything he wants to do before he dies. Topping the list of desires is falling in love. Modern Day AU. *Based off the novel 'Before I Die' by Jenny Downham. Written for Prompts in Panem, The Language of Flowers, Day 7. Banner by Ro Nordmann.


A/N: Written for Prompts in Panem, The Language of Flowers, Day 7. Jonquil: "Desire" _To wish for or want either a person or a thing, desire is described as the strong feeling associated with needs or longing. It may refer to a sexual yearning or a deep-seated ambition._

**Trigger Warning: **Major Character Death

* * *

**When You Go Through The Valley**

* * *

My brother has spent the last four years of his life studying biology. He is the pride and joy of our town and of our family, especially now that he has been accepted to med school at Harvard. In May, he'll graduate undergrad and then in the fall he'll begin his training to become Dr. Mellark. One day he'll save lives.

Too bad he can't save mine.

The fact that I'm still alive right now is a miracle, one that my doctors repeatedly reminded my parents of when the time came to have the discussion about ending treatment. I found it fascinating to watch the differences in how my family showed their grief. Dad did what he did best and ignored the doctors. On the way out he even tried to make an appointment with the receptionist. My mother argued and then went home and I haven't seen her since. My brothers don't know yet. Dad doesn't want to tell them during their finals if he doesn't have to, nor does he want to ruin my brother's senior week festivities that will happen after. The doctors don't think I'll die until September, so he doesn't feel the urgency yet. To be honest, I don't think he'll admit it until they're lowering my casket.

Johanna says it's morbid to talk like that. But it's the truth and I've been sugarcoating things for the last few years. I don't want to anymore.

Finnick adjusts the baseball cap on my head and smirks. "You ready?"

I nod and Jo gets up off my bed. "Then let's go."

Johanna's older brother goes to school about a half-hour away from us at the state university and we've been allowed to attend one of his parties. The perks of dying. None of us have ever had alcohol before and we've decided that now is the time to do it – together.

Blight drives us back with him and he and Johanna fight the entire way about which radio station we should pick. Finnick and I sit in the back. Finn rolls his eyes and then turns to look out the window. I do as well, leaning my head against the glass and looking up at the stars that are beginning to sprout in the sky. We zoom down the highway and I'm worried that the constant changing lanes will make me sick, but surprisingly I just feel calm.

I want so much for my life. So many desires. I want to swim in the ocean. I want to fall in love. I want to watch the sun set with the love of my life and then watch it rise into the sky again the next morning. But, most of all, I want to spend every last moment I have alive and I have an indeterminate amount of time to do that.

Tonight I am.

When the doctors told me that the medicine wasn't working and I convinced my parents that I wanted to discontinue treatment, instead of mourning Finnick and Johanna helped me make a bucket list of things I wanted to do in the time that I have left. They told me that they could mourn me later, but not when I was still here. It's more than I can say for a few of my other friends, kids that started mourning me before I even started really dying.

I always have it with me, the bucket list. It's only a piece of loose leaf, torn haphazardly out of Johanna's AP Biology notebook. But I've looked at it enough over the last few days to know what's on it without even looking at it. The paper is just a reminder, a keepsake.

At the top of the list is number one. Fall in love. Finnick crossed that out and replaced it with: don't die a virgin. He said that it's hard enough to find love at our age without the time constraint. Jo said she didn't want me to get disappointed.

The odds certainly aren't in my favor, but maybe. Once they left I re-added it at the bottom.

Finnick touches my arm and I startle, opening my eyes. We're here. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod.

…

The house that Blight lives in isn't too crowded when we arrive. Only his roommates are there, but the crowd is expected any time. He pours us all shots and we cheer. Jo takes hers first and nearly chokes on it. Finnick takes it like a champ but also drinks an entire can of Coke after it. I'm nervous as I tilt it down my throat.

It burns and settles in a hot mass in my stomach. It doesn't keep me from taking another.

Before I can even realizing it, Blight's place becomes packed and dark and sweaty. In the living room the furniture is all pushed to the side and people are dancing close together, some even attempting to dance in the same square of space. Everyone bumps together, jostled by those around them and swaying uncoordinatedly to the beat.

I feel like I'm outside my body. It's an odd feeling of being grounded and heavy but at the same time as light as air. Finnick is off somewhere dancing with a petite brunette and Johanna is mastering the beer pong board with her brother. I stand near the stairs, trying to keep my balance.

_We don't sleep when the sun goes down_  
We don't waste no precious time  
_All my friends in the loop_  
_Making up for teenage crime…_

"Hey, cutie."

The voice in my ear is loud and startles me so much that I jump. The blonde giggles, resting her hand on my arm and smirking.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," she screams. She has to for me to hear her over the noise.

I shake my head and let my eyes fall over her. She has long luscious blonde hair and a great figure accentuated by the clothes that barely covers any of her skin. Just by looking at her, I know that she is one of those girls that knows that she's hot.

And she's talking to me.

Holy shit.

"Dance with me."

I'll do whatever she says.

I'm not a very good dancer though. I was able to go to one Homecoming before my diagnosis and Finnick never stops reminding me that I am never going to be one of Beyoncé's dancers. I'm okay with that – no one in my family is really musically inclined and we all have two left feet. The blonde takes control though, pressing her back into my chest and her butt into my pelvis before beginning to sway.

Holy cow. Rye would die if he saw me now.

Maybe this is God's way of saying he's sorry for the shit storm that has been these last couple years.

We dance through a few songs before the girl spins around and starts to push me toward the door. Once we're outside on the porch – I hadn't even realized there was a porch in the back – her lips are on mine. The last time I kissed anyone was Delly Cartwright after the movies on a date that went so horribly wrong the summer before freshman year. I don't have much to go on, but the girl doesn't seem to care.

I pull back. "What's your name?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "You can call me Glimmer."

Glimmer. This blonde perfect college girl is Glimmer. I feel like I need to commit it to memory. I open my mouth to tell her my name but she starts kissing me again.

Her hands are everywhere – on my face, on my jaw, in my hair. I keep mine at my side at first, unsure what to do, and then put them on her hips as she presses into me, her chest on mine. My brain feels like mush and I try to focus on what I'm supposed to be doing. I should have gotten a crash course in kissing before getting here. Finnick sure knows how and he could have given me a few pointers. Glimmer slides her arms around my neck and then lets her fingers glide over the top of my button down. Should I move my hands off her hips or–

Her fingers brush my central line.

"Ack!" Glimmer shrieks, pulling back and then literally jumping away from me. "What the hell is that?"

Oh shit. I know she hasn't pulled on it or damaged it in a way that would hurt me, but it has clearly surprised her. My head is suddenly less of a fog as I lift my shirt enough to look down at my chest. Unfortunately, it moves enough for her to see the port.

"It's–"

"You freak!" she squeals, shaking her head and storming away. She yanks the door open and reenters the house, not even turning around.

I lean against the railing, the cool air nipping at my skin and the buzz in my head still there. I can't tell if I can't focus because it's too dark or because of the alcohol. It doesn't really matter, I suppose. The music changes and everyone starts to cheer. The muffled song floats out onto the porch.

_I don't know where you're going,_  
_But do you got room for one more troubled soul_  
_I don't know where I'm going,_  
_But I don't think I'm coming home_  
_And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead_  
_This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end…_

The stars have always comforted me. When I was younger, my dad really took to heart the idea that the stars are our loved ones telling us that they're okay. My mother called it a load of bull, but Dad clung to it like a lifeline. I suppose that might be why I believe in something else beyond this life. How can there be something as grand as the stars, these big bursts of gas so large that we can see them light years away, if there isn't something greater? Well, it's a comforting thought at least.

I've always been hopeful. I'm not going to turn into a cynic now.

So Glimmer won't help me with my list. She won't be the first and she certainly won't be the last.

…

The house is quiet when I walk in the next afternoon, my neck stiff from sleeping on the floor in Blight's living room. Dad left a note on the counter, saying he headed into the bakery to help train the new help and telling me to relax. He adds in no less than six exclamation points, as if me sleeping will help me in the long run.

I roll my eyes and grab my jacket off the hook again.

The bakery is only a few blocks away but it takes me longer than it should now to walk there. I have to stop every once and a while, sit on the curb of the sidewalk and catch my breath. Dad's right – I should probably sleep. I just don't want to. If it weren't for me, Dad wouldn't have to hire extra help. I'd be there, just like my brothers were before me. I wouldn't be told to sleep in the middle of the day.

I can sleep when I'm dead.

"Hey, you okay?"

I look up and almost swallow my tongue. The girl on her bike, which is stopped right near me, is beautiful in a much different way than Glimmer had been last night. She has a long dark braid over her shoulder and a uniform I recognize almost immediately. St. Almachius's School, one of the Catholic schools in our small city, is all girls, K-12, and I've never really met anyone who went there.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say. I hold out my hand, only to realize she's too far away to reach, even if she wanted to shake. I pull it back and try not to wince. "I'm Peeta, by the way."

"Katniss," she says.

"Why are you dressed in your uniform?" I ask. I bite my tongue, figuring that I sound like a huge asshole, but I continue to shove my foot into my mouth. "It's Sunday. You don't have school on Sundays right?"

She laughs and it is musical. "We have to go to Mass on Sunday and they like us to wear our uniforms once a month, for the board to see," she explains. "What are you doing sitting on a curb?"

I spread my arms out toward the road, which is full of potholes and the occasional zooming car. "The view, obviously."

She snorts. "Obviously."

I nod toward her bike. "Do you live around here?" I ask. "I've never seen you before."

"Not really. I live over on Broadhurst."

Broadhurst, explains the uniform. That's on the other side of town. Our city is split into thirds. I live in the mediocre third – Downtown or more affectionately known as 'Town. We like to say that it's delightfully average. Most families are firmly rooted in the middle class – we have enough but not enough for any sort of extras. Most families send their kids to State or the community college for two years before a more expensive one. The neighborhood to our left, the Seam, connects our suburbia-type town to the big city next door.

The smallest third, which borders the more country landscape to our west, is full of old plantation-like houses with huge yards and families that work at the big industries. Broadhurst is right smack dab in the center of it. Her dad must be a doctor or something.

I wonder if I've met him.

"Far ride," I say.

She shrugs. "Had to get out of the house." She smirks. "Maybe sit on a curb for a bit. Mind if I join you?"

I shake my head and she lets her bike fall with a crash against the sidewalk before sitting down next to me.

"So, what brings you to a curb on a Sunday afternoon?" she asks. "And in a winter coat and beanie – you haven't needed those since January."

Katniss is beautiful and taking interest in talking to me. But, at the same time, I don't want to bring _that _up yet.

So instead I shrug. "The Weather App must have lied," I insist. "It said we were expecting snow."

"That App has worse accuracy than a real weatherman," she says, her voice deadpan. I have to look toward her just to know that she's joking. But she's smiling, so that must be a good sign. "Seriously, though why are you sitting on a curb? You couldn't have found a bench?"

"I was on my way to my dad's bakery and I decided to take a break," I say.

"Bakery?" Her face literally lights up. "Your dad has a bakery? That's something you introduce yourself with."

I laugh and hold out my hand. "Peeta Mellark, my dad owns Mellark's over on 4th."

She reaches out to shake. "Katniss Everdeen, and I think you and I are going to be really good friends."

"Now see, I'm not sure if you want to be friends because of me or the food you think you're going to get from me," I tease.

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't say no to pastries if that's how you treat your friends," she says. "I've never been to your dad's bakery before – is it any good? That's the real question."

"Well," I say, mimicking her. "I was headed that way before I stopped to take in this lovely view. Want to come see these pastries?"

She smiles and nods her head, leaping up to grab her bike. We walk side by side with the bike between us all the way to the bakery. We don't talk too much – just small talk, formalities, getting to know each other questions. But it's nice. I like her.

Dad is at the counter with Darius, who looks absolutely hopeless at the register. Poor guy has no clue what he's doing. Granted, Dad's register is about a hundred years old, so I can't blame him too much. But I don't miss the relief that floods his face when he realizes the bell over the door isn't a customer but me.

"Peeta," Dad says, his voice a warning tone that I rarely hear anymore.

"Dad," I say, cutting him off before he can say anything else. "This is Katniss. I just met her and can you believe she's never had one of our pastries before?"

Darius groans and Dad slaps his back. "It'll be good practice for you," he says. Then he turns to the girl at my side. "It's nice to meet you, Katniss. We're training Darius here, so if you want to pick something out we're going to teach him how to ring it up."

She walks up to the display case and ponders for a moment before looking up at Dad and Darius. "What's the best thing here?"

"Try a cheese bun," Darius suggests.

Dad shakes his head. "Nice try," he says. "He already knows how to ring that one up."

Katniss ultimately gets a cheese bun, to appease Darius, and a cherry turnover, to appease Dad. She tries to pay, but Dad won't let her. He's like that. It's one of the many reasons why he and Mom didn't work out.

He calls me over while Katniss sits down at one of the small tables near the window. "How are you doing?" he asks. "You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Don't worry about me. You've got enough on your hands with Darius."

Darius is one of my brother's old friends, so I feel okay joking with him. He went to art school for a while but had to quit for financial reasons. It's serendipity for him that my job was open.

He sticks his tongue out at me.

"Okay, well," Dad says, looking over at Katniss before turning back to me. "Just don't push yourself too hard."

I roll my eyes and start to walk away but Darius grabs my arm and yanks me toward him before I can get away. "She's hot, dude!" he says. Then he pushes me out toward her again.

Katniss is finished with her food when I get to her table. "Did you inhale them?" I ask.

She looks up at me with a smile. "I can't decide which one I liked better."

"Well, it might be easier if you tasted them both."

"Ha. Ha," she says, but she's still smiling. "Seriously though, with a dad who owns a place like this, how are you not a thousand pounds?"

Many reasons – none of which I want to share with her right now.

"That good, huh?" I ask. "So, I'll see you here again?"

She nods emphatically. "Definitely."

…

Despite my dad's early hours at the bakery, he spends most of his nights awake in the den downstairs on the computer, searching furiously for some sort of miracle. He won't find one, but it helps his denial. I've tried to make him stop but now I know it's a waste of breath.

So, when I can't sleep at night, I know where I can find company.

I lean against the doorframe and watch as he picks at the keys. Once, Rye tried to teach him how to type efficiently, but he's still not quite up to speed. He uses his index fingers to type each letter and, although he's gotten quicker, he still has a long way to go.

"Dad?"

He looks up from the screen and rubs his eyes. He needs to be up in five hours and yet here he is.

"It looks like there's a new clinical trial in Israel," he says.

"Great."

I sit down in the chair beside him and pull my knees up to my chest. He turns back to the computer and begins to scroll down the page. It's not in English so I don't have a clue what he's trying to decipher.

He sighs and presses the back button, which takes him to his Google search.

We sit like this for maybe an hour. I don't realize I fall asleep until I feel Dad pick me up. My dad is strong – broad shouldered and muscular from lifting sacks of flour since he was my age – but no father should be able to pick up his seventeen-year-old son without a second thought. I don't think he even winces.

…

I'm actually surprised to see Katniss again.

She brings a tiny tow-headed girl with her to the bakery on Thursday afternoon, both in their St. Almachius's uniforms. Johanna, Finnick, and I are sitting around trying to decide what we should do next off my list when the bell over the door shrills and Darius nudges my shoulder.

"Peeta, it's your girl."

"Girl!" Finnick squawks. He turns to me with wide eyes. "When did you meet a girl? I've been with you since Friday night!"

I look up and smile at Katniss, who waves at me as the tiny sprit of a girl next to her charges to the display case. "Sunday afternoon."

He grins. "Look at you, hound dog."

Jo rolls her eyes. I stand up. "I'll be back."

"Is the beanie your trademark or do you not own another hat?" Katniss asks when I come to stand beside her.

I actually have twenty-three hats. But who's counting?

"Who's this?" I ask, pointing toward the girl Katniss brought with her. She has her face right up against the glass and is trying to figure out what to get. Darius is trying to con her into a fritter. He just figured out how to ring it up.

"My sister," she says. She points to Finnick and Johanna. "Who are they?"

"My best friends," I tell her.

She eyes Johanna for a bit and then shakes her head. I look over at the table. Finnick is nearly on the floor, his face a bright cherry red as he tries not to explode into laughter. Jo has since removed her sweatshirt and pulled the top of her shirt down enough to show her cleavage. She winks at me and then she smirks at Katniss. I glare at her, but she just blows me a kiss.

I turn back to Katniss. She is staring at the ceiling.

"That's just Jo," I tell her. "Ignore both of them about ninety-nine percent of the time and you'll be golden."

"Sounds like a great group of friends you've got yourself."

If only she knew.

"Katniss! I decided!" the blonde girl squeals from the counter.

Katniss turns to me and sighs. "I should probably go help her pay," she says, shaking her head. "Next time I'll come by myself." Then she catches herself and looks a little shy. "If that's okay, I mean."

"No, no, that's totally fine. Yeah, leave your sister behind…well, I mean, she's probably great, but…yeah okay."

We both chuckle a little awkwardly before splitting ways. Katniss helps her sister at the register and I sit back with Finnick and Johanna. The two are tight-lipped until the bell over the door dings with the girls' exit.

"At least she's pretty," Jo says.

"What?" I exclaim.

"She's a jealous prude," Johanna continues. "She couldn't even look at me for the rest of the time and she adjusted her own shirt to cover herself up more – definitely a prude. But at least she looked angry about it. I suppose she passes my test."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you for the approval. I was waiting for it."

Finnick grabs the list and fiddles with it for a moment. "Does she know?"

"No."

The two exchange glances across the table and I decide to ignore it. Katniss doesn't need to know. I want one friend who doesn't treat me like I'm delicate china meant to stay on a shelf and never be used. I've got plenty of people who do that already.

…

True to her word, the next time Katniss comes to the bakery she's by herself. Dad's in the back working – still upset by my insistence on coming in today, he wanted me to rest – and Darius all but throws me out the door before she can even step fully inside.

We walk down the street and sit on a bench.

I learn that her sister's name is Prim. Their father was a botanist and biology professor at the university here. I notice that she uses the past tense when she talks about him, but I don't ask. She also doesn't talk about her mother, but then again I don't talk about mine. I tell her about my brothers and what she doesn't already know about my baker father. It's nice.

But I hear Finnick in the back of my head. I replay their reaction when I told them she didn't know. And, I look at Katniss, and realize what a selfish pig I'm being. How can I let Katniss get attached to me, become my friend, without her knowing that in a few months I'm not going to be here anymore?

"Katniss, there's something I need to tell you." She turns to look at me, wide innocent eyes, and I feel my stomach flop unpleasantly. I should have told her sooner. "I don't think we can be friends."

"What?"

I turn to look at my hands. "It's not that I don't want to – because I do. It's just that…" I take a deep breath. "Katniss, I'm dying."

Those are the first times that I've ever said the words. When I told Finnick and Jo, I just told them the treatments weren't working anymore. They were able to fill in the blanks. My dad doesn't talk about it. I haven't seen Mom since. My brothers are still in the dark – off partying at school without a care in the world. I've never had to use the words before.

They cause me to word vomit all over her.

I start from the beginning. I tell her how I was on the football team, just like my brothers, when I started bruising. We all figured that it was from the sport. It's a rough game and bruises are the least of anyone's worries. But then I started getting nosebleeds more frequently than I'd ever had them before. I was tired, lethargic. I could barely do anything. Dad originally figured it was mono and he took me to the doctor for a blood test to see if that was it. It wasn't. That started three years of intense treatments – radiation, chemotherapy, drug after drug after drug. Until they stopped working and the cancer continued to plow through my body and the doctors told me to do what I wanted. Fulfill any deep-seated desires I have. Because, at their estimate, I won't be here next winter and it's already April.

Throughout the entire story, which takes less time than I thought it would to be honest, Katniss is quiet. She doesn't look up at me when I finish. She doesn't say a word. She looks down at her lap.

"I'm just…I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you," I say.

And then I stand up and go. If she wants to follow, she can.

She doesn't.

…

The rain of April slowly dissolves into the flowers of May. As they bloom and color our yard with deep pinks and purples, Dad decides that he wants to tell Rye and Barley together, once Barley graduates. So when Rye comes home two weeks before Barley, we're supposed to keep everything a huge secret.

I roll my eyes when he tells me. It's a plan that's destined to fail.

Dad works Rye's bakery schedule around my nurse's visits. I have home health aids coming in to run tests and help me with my physical wellbeing. Portia is my favorite nurse and she is usually the one who stops by the house. I like her the best. She doesn't sugarcoat things for me. She explains them like they are.

"There, all done," she says, pulling off her gloves and smiling at me.

I look down at the Band-Aid in the crease of my elbow. I could have had blood drawn for anything. Once, before shit hit the fan, I would make up all these crazy stories about mutant viruses and being part of some sort of apocalypse. Sometimes I'd pretend I was the star of a Will Smith movie.

"Thanks."

Portia places her hand on mine. "You're quiet today."

I'm usually very talkative. Portia is easy to talk to and so I tend to be a bit of a blabbermouth. But I haven't heard from Katniss in more than a week and Rye is walking around without a clue. He came home yesterday. Barley's graduation isn't for another two weeks.

"I'm okay."

I have the house to myself for an hour before Rye gets home from the bakery. He slams into the armchair beside me in the living room where I'm flipping through the channels. And we don't talk while we bypass through three straight channels of cartoons.

"A girl stopped by the bakery today," he says once we settle on a channel halfway through _The Goonies_.

"Wow, what blatant disrespect for the all men's environment of a bakery. Blasphemy."

Rye chucks one of the throw pillows at me. "You're an idiot," he says. "I meant a girl stopped by looking for you."

He must be attempting a joke. "You mean Jo?"

"No. I know who Johanna is. It was someone else. I can't remember her name."

"Gee, thanks."

Rye frowns. "What's gotten into you? You're acting weird."

I should just tell him right now, but I bite my tongue for Dad's sake. I toss the remote to Rye and then stand up to walk away. However, when I get up I feel lightheaded. I press a hand to my head.

And then I feel myself fall.

…

When I wake up I'm in the ER. Rye is sitting by my head and Dad is just outside the curtain. I can hear him talking in low tones to the doctor. And then I hear the clicking of heels against the tiles and Mom's high-pitched voice.

The doctor must leave because then my parents start arguing behind the curtain. "You're an asshole!" Mom hisses. Everyone in the hospital must hear her. "Rye called me. Not you – Rye!"

"I didn't think you wanted to be involved anymore."

"He's my son too!"

"Then why did you leave?"

Rye stands up out of his chair and throws back the curtain. "Both of you shut up!" he yells. "Or go outside."

Then he comes back to sit by my head and I can almost see tears forming in his eyes. He must know now. How could he not?

We don't say anything to each other. I don't think Rye knows what to say. And whatever it is he wants to say he doesn't want to do it in front of our parents, who decide to be a little bit civil and come in.

"What happened?" I ask.

Dad pats my leg. "You're okay."

I turn to Mom but she obviously has no idea. I look at Rye.

"They ran some tests to figure it out."

For the next few hours, we sit in the most awkward family circle to ever exist. Whenever Dad says something, Mom ignores it. When Mom says something, Dad tries to change the subject. Rye spends most of his time with his fists clenched.

The doctor breaks the awkwardness with more bad news. I don't think I'll ever get good news from a doctor again.

The cancer has spread to my spinal fluid. It's progressing quicker than the doctors had hoped.

…

There's a knock on the door and I think it must be Finnick and Johanna. We're planning on working on the list. We have less time now to do it. Jo insists that breaking the law, number three, will be easy. We can shoplift something at the mall.

I'm not expecting it to be Katniss.

"How did you find out where I live?" I ask as she walks passed me into the house. She didn't even ask.

She looks at the pictures on the walls. "You have curly hair?" she asks.

"Had," I say. She's eyeing one of the pictures of me when I was a toddler. My mother always insisted on getting professional pictures taken when we were younger. "And it got less curly as I grew up."

She nods and then turns to me. "My dad died four years ago," she says. "It was hard. My mom went into this really deep depression and I hated her for it. I didn't want to become her and when you told me I…" She looks back at the picture. "We've known each other for three days so I thought it would be easy to forget about you but it's not. I already feel connected to you and I can't just let you go. I want to be friends."

I step forward and put a hand on her cheek. "I'm going to hurt you."

"I know," she says. "But I'm going to let you hurt me. It's my choice."

"If you're sure."

She nods her head.

…

I look down at my list.

-don't die a virgin

-buy an apartment

-break the law

-alcohol

-watch the sunset and rise the next day

-travel

-swim in the ocean

-fly

-fall in love

I have a checkmark next to alcohol. Today I'm ready to do number three. I stuff it back in my pocket.

"Okay, so it's really simple." Johanna strides up to the sunglasses display. Finnick and I watch as she starts to try them on. She puts on a pair and then pushes them up on her head, before grabbing another pair. "See. Simple."

She continues to try on sunglasses, leaving the one pair on her head, and then finally decides that she's had enough. Then she tells us that she's going upstairs to look at the clearance items. She'll meet us outside.

I try to mimic her. I put the sunglasses on and then take them off. I put on another pair and push them up on my head. Then I try on more. Finnick looks nervous and I'm sure that I look the same way. We're going to get caught.

Finnick wanders off into another part of the store and I keep the glasses on my head as I look around at things I'm not interested in. I'm not even paying attention to what I'm looking at – I'm too focused on everyone and everything around me. They must all know. They're going to charge as soon as I try to leave.

"Hey!"

"Ahh!" I turn around, putting my hand to my heart when I realize it's Katniss and not someone else who is attempting to get me. "Don't do that. You scared me."

She giggles. "Fancy seeing you here," she says nodding to my left. "Especially looking at dresses. Is there anything I should know?"

"No," I say, a little too quickly. I can't believe I wandered here. I must have shoplifter written all over my face.

"Are you here with anyone or do you want to come with me? I could use some company."

It takes me about five seconds to fire off a text to Johanna and Finnick.

I'm surprised when nothing happens after I leave the store. I expect there to be a ding of an alarm. I look over my shoulder to see if there's a manager running out after me. None of that happens. Instead, Katniss and I walk farther and farther away, no one noticing at all what's going on.

"You look a little jumpy."

"I just broke the law." I pull the glasses off my head. "Number three on my bucket list."

"You have a bucket list?" she asks. "Can I see?"

I pull out the notebook paper and watch as she scans it. "You only have two crossed off."

"I know. I'm not doing very good at it."

She looks it over once more. "I could help you with a couple of these. I know a great place to watch the sunset."

It's only mid-afternoon when we head off, but it takes awhile to arrive at the top of the hill on the edge of the city where Katniss brings me. The sun is already beginning to set when our hike is over and we sit on the grass together. I am utterly exhausted, even though we stopped a few times for rest, and as the sun begins to set I feel my eyes start to close. I blink furiously, attempting to stay awake to watch it, but as darkness envelopes us I feel myself drifting.

Luckily it's warm out. I wake up to Katniss's alarm on her phone. She's curled up into my side with her head on my chest, sound asleep and we're still in the grass, covered in dew from the morning. My phone is full of messages when I check it – most of them from Dad. I send him a message to let him know I'm all right, even though I'm sure he's been to every hospital in the city three times and has been to the police as well.

I shake Katniss awake. "Look."

We watch the sun rise, bursting into the sky and making the darkness disappear with its pink and orange hues.

Katniss smiles. "You can cross that off your list now too."

…

Dad is so mad at me for not telling him where I was that he sends me to spend the day with Mom. Apparently she's been bugging him since the hospital incident to let me come to her place. He didn't tell me. There are a lot of secrets in this house. So, I pack up a bag and tell Dad I'm spending the week before Barley's graduation with Mom. He's on the computer, still searching for the cure he's never going to find.

Rye drives me. That's how I know Dad's still upset.

Mom, of course, is an attorney and is never home. That's another reason why Dad and her never lasted. Mom wasn't willing to give up her career when I got sick and Dad took that as her not caring. At first I agreed with him. Now I wonder if maybe she's in just as much denial as Dad is, just showing it in a different way.

I end up spending most of the week with Katniss anyway. Mom is at work all the time so the house is empty. Katniss comes by after school to help me figure out what to do about my list. We keep saying that when summer comes Katniss will drive me to the coast and we'll go to the beach. She's been before but not since her dad died. I've never been. I've barely been out of the city.

We set a date. July. We're going in July.

The day before Barley's graduation Mom actually doesn't go into work. She and I don't have much to talk to each other about though, both avoiding the elephant in the room. So we eat in silence for the most part. Mom sucks at cooking though so we end up eating some of her Lean Cuisines. If Dad saw me eating them he'd have a fit. I'm supposed to eat healthy food – steamed, cleaned, and organic. He has cooked every single meal I've had at home since I was diagnosed. He acts like he's caring for a newborn. Everything has to be perfect.

"This tastes like cardboard," she says, picking up both of plates and dumping them in the trash. "What do you think of pizza?"

I shrug. My taste buds have been dead since my last round of chemotherapy.

"I'll be right back."

While she's gone, I stay at the table and pull out my phone. I play a few rounds of Flappy Bird, which I luckily downloaded before it got pulled from the app store. It became my saving grace during my last hospital stay.

I'm about to beat my record – 78 – when a drop of blood hits the screen.

It's a nosebleed and I know that this one is going to be bad. The dish drying cloth drenches with blood that just keeps dripping down my face. By the time Mom finally comes back, the green and white striped cloth is completely ruined.

"Oh my God," she says, dropping the pizza boxes. "What…what do I do?"

I cough and blood spurts out of my nose. "Call 911," I tell her.

"I think I should call your father."

"Call an ambulance."

"I," she shakes her head. "I don't know what I'm doing. There's so much blood."

She looks down at the floor where the blood is dripping into a nice puddle. "I'll call."

They end up having to cauterize my nose and when they ask Mom questions she has no answers. I have to answer the questions by holding Mom's hand and squeezing once for yes, twice for no. I think Dad runs the entire way to the hospital because he's so frazzled and out-of-breath when he makes it to my room.

I don't make it to Barley's graduation. Rye goes so Barley has someone in the stands, but Mom and Dad both stay by my side. I'm pretty sure Dad's nervous about leaving me alone with Mom as if she's the reason why I had a nosebleed.

Forget the cancer. I'm going to suffocate.

…

Katniss comes by one day in early June after Portia stops by and she tells me that I'm coming with her so we can go house hunting. We dress up in fancy clothes and pretend we're something special and go to a few open houses. She laces her arm through mine.

The first house we go to is a huge Victorian that costs more than my dad brings in at the bakery in a decade. The realtor clearly thinks we're up to shenanigans and looks down at us as we walk inside and take a sheet.

"Oh, honey, don't you think our piano would look lovely in this room?" Katniss asks in that uppity voice actors use in comedy movies.

The realtor sniffs. "If you don't mind me asking, aren't you two a little young?"

Katniss laughs. "Peeta here is the heir to Mellark Incorporated in Richmond. We're expanding soon and he'll be taking over this office so we'll need somewhere to live."

"I mean, we can't stay in our summer house on the Outer Banks if we're working here all the time. Right, love?"

Katniss smiles at me. "But, of course, if you don't think this is a good fit for us we can find another home to look at."

The realtor shakes her head. "I'll give you two a personal tour actually. I hadn't realized who you were, Mr. Mellark. It's a big big company, is it not?"

As the realtor walks on through the house, Katniss and I have to fight back our laughter. In fact when we leave, with Effie Trinket's number to boot, we take a good ten minutes in Katniss's car before we're able to leave.

We drive around to four different houses, but none of the realtors are as naïve as Effie Trinket. For the most part, they just let us go with an eye roll or a frustrated head shake.

At the last house, we're standing on the balcony of the master bedroom. The house is on a hill that overlooks the entire city and the view alone is worth the price.

"I could get used to this," I say, leaning against the wrought iron.

Katniss smiles and leans into me a little. "Oh, I'm sure you could."

We stand for a minute, not saying anything, until Katniss turns to look up at me. "Are you scared?"

She doesn't have to finish the sentence. I know what she's getting at. It's a little heavy though so I make a joke out of it. I look out at the city and gesture to it with my arms.

"Of this hill collapsing and all of us tumbling down into the city? Oh, yes, I'm shaking."

Katniss gives me a hard look. "How can you joke about it?"

"I guess you get used to the idea," I say. Then I turn to her. "They tell me that it won't hurt, but I'm scared that it will. I'm scared that there's nothing else out there after and I just won't be anymore. I'm scared of a lot of things. But to say that I'm scared of dying seems selfish when I think about all the pain everyone around me is going to deal with. Sure, I was sick for a couple years and that sucked and it was painful, but my family is going to be dealing with this for the rest of their lives."

She shakes her head. "You're so selfless."

"Not really," I tell her. "I just think people who are dying learn how to wax poetry about it. It's, like, part of the job description. I'm not anything special."

"Yes, you are."

She pulls me down to her, wrapping her arms around my neck so she can kiss me. I'm shocked at first but it slowly becomes more and more of a reality to me. I'm not sure how long we spend there on the balcony – I can imagine many cycles of the sun setting and rising in the distance beyond us – but we do have to break for air at some point.

"I'm going to hurt you," I tell her, the guilt crushing down on me. My family was always going to hurt. Finnick and Jo were too, to be honest. They were there long before the cancer. But, Katniss…I'm doing this to her. I'm encouraging this even though I know it's going to end in misery.

Katniss sighs and turns so she's facing the city once more. "Yes, you are," she says. "But I'll allow it."

…

I come home feeling like I'm on some sort of cloud that, while white and puffy in the sky, is filling with rain to dump on everyone. It's a nice feeling though and the smile on my face can't really be hidden. Katniss actually likes me, really likes me. And I feel terrible about it but at the same time I do feel wonderful.

"What's got you all moon-eyed?" Rye says from the kitchen table when I walk in. He's helping Dad shuck corn and both of them look up when I enter.

"Nothing."

Rye turns to Dad. "It must be about that girl that picked him up earlier today."

"Girl?" Dad asks. He looks up at me and frowns. "Peeta."

"What, Dad?" I ask, pulling my suit jacket off and tossing it on the chair. "Why is it such a bad thing for me for me to go out with Katniss and actually have fun instead of being here all day?" Dad opens his mouth to respond, but I continue my rant. "When Barley wanted to play video games all day long when he was in high school you made him socialize. Why can't I?"

Dad sighs. "You're exhausted."

"I'm alive."

He turns away and continues to shuck. I roll my eyes and walk to the fridge to get a glass of water. My mouth is a little dry today. I down it quickly and then storm out of the room, only coming back out of my room when Rye tells me dinner is ready.

Dad is already at the table when we get there, seated and eating. I push my food around my plate.

"I want to meet her."

I look up at Dad, but he's looking down at his plate while he talks.

"If you're going to do this, I want to meet this girl."

Rye and I share a look, but if Dad's not going to lock me away I'll do anything. "Okay."

…

Word spreads quickly in our family apparently because Mom stops by the next day to have a chat with Dad. For the first time in a while, they actually seem to agree on something – the fact that they don't want me to get involved with Katniss. Mom has all these excuses – we don't know who she is or where she's been and God only knows what this girl does on the weekends as if Katniss is some seventeen-year-old prostitute with a couple kids.

Dad tells her that Katniss is coming over for dinner. Mom insists on coming over as well. I just want pneumonia to hit me now and strike me dead.

Dinner may be the most awkward situation I could have ever thought of. Our entire family is seated around the table. Even Barley has stopped by at the request of my parents for God only knows what reason. We sit in near silence, no one really wanting to break any ice for fear of everything combusting. Katniss looks the most distressed and I squeeze her hand in apology under the table. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dating a dying guy whose family is a bunch of proud idiots? Yeah, sign me up for the next train out of town.

"Boys, why don't you clean up the dishes," Dad says when our dinner is finished. "We'll be in soon."

We leave begrudgingly and I take up an eavesdropping spot on the wall near the door. Rye and Barley do the dishes and let me listen.

"We just want to know what your intentions are."

Oh, dear lord.

"W-what do you mean?"

Dad sighs and I can almost picture him rubbing his hands over his face. "Katniss, Peeta is very sick and he's just going to get sicker. You're seventeen! You don't need to be nursing anyone at your age."

"But, Peeta doesn't need nursing."

"He does," Dad says. "And he will, more and more as the days go on. I think it would be in everyone's best interests if you let him down gently and go."

It is very quiet and I listen for the door, knowing that Katniss must be close to leaving. I would be, in her situation.

"I can't," she says. "I need him and he needs me too."

"Oh, please," Mom says. "Katniss, honey, do yourself a favor and get lost. He doesn't need this right now."

It goes quiet again, but then Katniss talks. "I think you should ask him what he wants."

Then I hear her footsteps and the front door shut. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

_Katniss Everdeen [sent 7:16pm]: I know you were listening I'm not going anywhere until you tell me_

I smile and shoot her a response.

_I don't want you to go [delivered 7:16pm]_

…

"You look good today."

Portia removes the needle from my arm and places a piece of gauze in its place. I hold onto it like always.

"Yeah?"

She nods. "I think I should instruct all my patients to fall in love," she adds with a wink. Her eyes are drawn to the back door. "Speaking of."

I turn around. Katniss is standing at the door and waves to me before opening it. She leans down to kiss the top of my head before nodding to Portia. "I'm Katniss."

"I've heard a lot about you. I'm Portia." She removes her gloves. "And I'm leaving."

She stands and puts her things in her bag. It's almost like magic how quickly she disappears.

Katniss wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a proper kiss now that we're alone.

"What else is on your list?" Katniss asks.

The list is in my pocket, exactly where it always is, but I don't make a move to take it in my hands. Instead, I just smile. "You," I say. "I want to spend the day with you."

"I can do that."

The sun is shining in the backyard where we lay in the hammock together. Katniss has a book and I take a nap and we just relax. We kiss too and eventually when the inevitable rain shower begins, we rush inside to stay dry. I pull her to me before we reach the door and kiss her in the rain – trying to be romantic, I suppose.

I haven't been hungry for days. It's a side effect of dying. But when I kiss her I feel this sense of intense hunger and I know Katniss feels it too.

We go inside and I bring her to my room. We strip off our soaking clothes.

I can cross 'fly' off my list too because after, when it's over and we're just holding each other in my bed, I feel like I could fly. Fly somewhere far away from here – away from my family, away from my quickly ending life. Fly to a place where it is just me and Katniss, with no death, no pain, and no leaving her behind.

I can't. I know I can't. But I feel like I can.

…

Johanna and Finnick steal me away from Katniss one day, claiming that they never see me alone anymore. I miss Katniss, but it is nice to see them.

Jo drives us out of the city and to the rolling fields where we used to go when we were younger. It's really just stretches of hilly meadow, with seas of dandelions and wild flowers. I wonder if Katniss has ever been. I add it to my list to bring her.

We lie in the grass and watch the clouds go by. Finnick thinks every one looks like an anchor.

"Are you okay?" Jo asks. "You've got a funny look on your face."

I nod my head. I'm a little cold. I shiver. But I'm okay.

"What do you think of that cloud?" Finnick asks.

"An ax," Johanna says.

Finnick gives her a look. "Always so violent," he teases. "Peeta, what do you see?"

I stare for a few minutes before deciding. "A heart."

"God, you're turning into a sap," Jo cries.

Finnick laughs.

We don't stay much longer than an hour. Finnick and Johanna both dislike how much I'm shivering. I don't tell them about the ache behind my eyes. It's nothing they can fix anyway.

While they talk about the clouds, I think about the fluffy white goodness. I wonder how hard they are to walk on, or if you're dead and nothing but air it's easier to fathom.

They drop me off at home after our day is over. The ache behind my eyes is still there and I collapse into the chair in the living room when I get home. Rye and Dad are watching some show – baseball? I can't focus.

"Hey, kiddo, how was it?" Dad asks. He turns away from the screen to look at me and frowns. "Peeta?"

I press a finger to the top of my eye socket, pressing on the aching nerve to try and make it disappear. Dad is at my side in a split second. His hand is on my forehead and the coolness of his palm is so comforting that I fall into it.

"You're burning up," Dad says. "Rye, call an ambulance."

I vaguely hear Rye say something in the background and feel Dad's hand disappear.

The chair is soft. I think about the time that Mom used it as an excuse for her leaving. She was so fed up with Dad that even his 'stupid-bachelor-pad-armchair-with-the-giant-hole-that-wouldn't-fetch-ten-cents-at-a-yard-sale' La-Z-Boy was on the list of things she hated about their marriage.

I'm sinking. Falling. I wonder if I'm disappearing into the hole in the back.

"Peeta, please, don't close your eyes. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can."

His voice is so far away but at the same time so near, as if I could string them together into a bead bracelet like the ones we made at summer camp.

I squeeze his hand. The room twirls.

…

I always thought I would welcome death as I would a friend, with open arms and a smile. I didn't realize that Death would feel like an elephant on my chest. It hurts. I can't even remember the throb in my head when I think of my chest's struggles to rise and fall.

It's happening. After all this time of slow dying, it is going to be a sudden departure into the unknown. This isn't fair. I was supposed to get my time. I'm not prepared to go out in a whirlwind. I was supposed to rot.

Of course, nothing has ever been in my favor.

Hushed voices. I can't see, my eyes glued shut by some greater force, but I can still hear. Mom comes at one point and the two of them are actually civil when they talk to the doctor. Crying. Panicking. Bargaining. Pleading. And then silence.

It's like the stages of grief all in an hour, or however long it is. It could be days for all I know.

Rye and Barley come too. Barley even takes my hand. I feel like I have barely seen my oldest brother since getting sick. He's been too busy preparing to save other people's lives and distancing himself away from me.

Step one of being a good doctor – don't get attached to people who are dying. It will only hurt you in the end.

"What happened?"

"He has an infection."

More silence.

Being in this fading delirium gives me too much time to live in my head. I've never been good at internal processing. I've always been an extrovert. I like to talk. It must be the reason why I keep moaning and stringing together nonsensical sentences.

"Dad, I'm sinking."

"You're okay."

"Don't let me go."

"I'm not letting you go anywhere yet."

…

I wake up for real, the delirium haze evaporated. Dad sits by my side, reading and waiting to get me anything my heart desires. My stomach growls and he even pulls out a croissant from the bakery that was probably for him and not me. But how many more will I be able to eat?

I learn that almost as soon as I finish.

The doctor comes to visit with his big chart and the straight face of experience. I cut right to the chase. I don't have time for small talk. Once he finishes telling me that they did find the right antibiotic to use and that this infection won't kill me, I ask the question on everyone's mind.

"How much longer do I have?"

The doctor frowns. "I don't like to draw timetables."

"Has it spread more?"

"Yes."

Where? I don't need to ask it. He must see the question in my eyes, or he must assume that I'll ask it.

"It's in your peripheral blood and there are a few tumors in your brain."

That is not the end of his monologue. He continues to tell me, in nicely packaged phrases, that my immune system is shot and my options are limited. He wants to make me comfortable, which is what the doctors have been saying from the beginning but his voice is different than before. There is a sort of finality in his tone.

I don't have to ask to know I won't be making it to the beach with Katniss.

…

They keep me in the hospital for ten days before I stage a coup. I want to go home. Yes, they are maintaining my life and I might live a little bit longer at the hospital than I will at home, but what are a few more hours when we're talking about days.

Someone consistently surrounds me. Dad begins the day and Katniss comes after. Rye usually stops by too. I think he likes Katniss and they form a friendship. Finnick and Jo too. That makes me happy to see.

Katniss and I spend the entire first day we have to ourselves in bed. Katniss does most of the work and I feel bad about it, but we both manage to fall apart despite my energy being drained.

Katniss spends as much time as she can here. She takes good care of me. One day she even gives me a bath.

"Is this real?" I ask.

"Yes, it's real."

I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or not. I think I should be, but my head is so foggy I just don't know.

Portia comes by more often, but the more she comes the farther from me she feels. I wonder how she can do this – administer to the dying. How can someone watch as their patient reaches out to stroke Death's flames and not get engulfed along with them?

"What will it be like?" I ask her one day.

"You won't want to eat much and you'll sleep more than you've ever slept. Talking will take a lot of energy, but you will still be able to in short bursts. You'll start to come in and out of consciousness. You'll know people are with you even if you can't respond to them. Eventually, you'll drift away. You won't feel any pain. The morphine will help with that."

That night Katniss stays over and Dad doesn't say a word about it. I wonder if he's passed denial in the stages of grief yet.

There are so many questions and not enough time for all the answers. It has always been that way, I suppose. Those assemblies in school with a guest speaker, when they had to pick a final question out of a sea of hands – that's just a microcosm for life.

"I'm sorry we never went to the beach," Katniss says.

I shake my head. "Number six," I say, turning over. "Not the beach."

"Then what it is?"

I smile. "I crossed out beach," I tell her.

She chuckles. "What did you put?"

"Waking up with you."

She kisses my lips very quickly, so as to not block my airflow too much. I'm grateful for her ability to still kiss me. With my chapped lips, I wouldn't kiss a tree.

..

Death is dark, but light is a fighter.

.

Listen to Katniss breathing. Watch as her chest rises and falls, healthy breaths that fill her lungs with life. Every time she's forced to leave make sure you tell her that you love her. She'll gasp the first time, but it's okay. She'll realize that it's real the fifth time you say it. And then she'll say it back. It'll only take you once asking if it's real or not real to know you're not making it up.

Tell Dad that you're grateful for everything that he's done. He has put his life on hold for you and now is his time to shine. Hold his hand when he reaches for yours. Don't be embarrassed by his constancy – it's one of the few unfailing things you have left.

Have Rye read you his magazines. Some of them will only have pictures – have him explain them to you. It's hilarious to see him fluster when Dad walks into the room while he's explaining his favorite picture out of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

Watch Mom take fewer clients just for you. Watch as she sits by your side. When she starts talking in technical terms – hemoglobin and CBC and central line – just smile. It took her a long time to get here but she did.

When Finnick and Jo come, pretend you don't see them crying. They've been strong for too long. They can't help it. But you can tease them about other stuff – like the boy who is apparently flirting with Jo at the pool downtown. It'll make her blush. How often does that happen?

Make Barley tell you why he's excited to be a doctor and joke with him that it's not really about you – it's about him. It'll make him laugh.

Listen – that's life.

When I wake up, Katniss is sitting beside my bed. I don't think she realizes that I'm awake. She has her head on her folded hands. I see a set of rosary beads. I close my eyes while she prays. She hasn't done it in front of me before – I don't want to make her uncomfortable.

When my eyes open again, she's reading a book. My eyes find the clock. I took a three hour nap.

I don't have time for that.

"Morning, hot shot."

"Afternoon," I correct her.

She rolls her eyes and shuts the book, but I shake my head. "What are you reading?"

"It's for school," she says, holding up the _The Invisible Man_.

"Read it aloud," I say. She gives me a look. "I like hearing your voice."

She does. It's boring, but her voice can make anything interesting. I could go out now, listening to her. Her voice would guide me to the gates. What a way to die – on the wings of angels.

I keep thinking of the night I almost caused a fire in the bakery. I was using a match to light the candle on Rye's birthday cake that I was supposed to carry out to the front where a bunch of his friends were waiting for him. It was a surprise. I dropped the match on the ground and fire licked at the floor. I stomped it out with my foot but not before the fire alarm started to go off and the fancy sprinkler system Dad had just installed soaked everyone. Mom got so mad at me for ruining her new outfit.

"He looks peaceful."

"He looks like he's sleeping."

"They better not make him look like a frog at the wake."

Slap.

In my head, I laugh.

I smell like I'm dying. I can't smell it of course, but I can see it on Katniss's face when she comes. Her nose always wrinkles once when she walks in. She's good at hiding stuff from me though.

"I'm a living carcass, real or not real?"

She shakes her head.

"Real or not real?"

"You're not a carcass," she says.

I'm decaying.

The smell of freshly baked bread. The sound of rain pounding on the roof.

Paging Dr. Barley Mellark: What happens to the dead bodies after you finish with them?

I am standing of the top of a large cliff. Down below there are a few other kids, all carcasses, and a monster. The minotaur. Greek mythology. Finnick taught me that.

Athens had to send seven boys and seven girls to Crete to be devoured by the minotaur. The cruelest thing to do to the people of Athens is not to kill them. It's to kill their children.

I am the sacrifice.

"Peeta, wake up. It's not real."

I open my eyes. Dad stares at me. Mom wipes sweat off my forehead with a cloth.

"Are we Athenian?"

There are so many things that I want to say to my dad. To everyone. But I can't.

I'm already off to the minotaur. I've been at the top of this cliff from the moment I was diagnosed.

I am falling, sinking into the devil's mouth.

Maybe I'll come back to Katniss as someone else. She'll meet me in her first college class. Sit next to me and think I'm the ultimate geek like in those rom coms Johanna hates to admit she likes. I'll be there for her. I have to.

I think she's my soulmate. How else do you explain her coming into my life just as it's ending. There is no point to that but pain.

Every Katniss will meet every Peeta. We'll have a longer love next time.

I cannot tell what is real and what isn't. Every question I ask in my head goes unanswered by those around me.

"We're right here, Peeta. We're right here."

If the sun shines on the day you die but your eyes are closed, will it matter?

Katniss and I go to parent teacher conferences. Our kids are beautiful like her and smart to boot. A boy and a girl – perfect mixtures of the both of us.

"Are his lungs supposed to sound like that?"

"Rye, go get Dad."

The closest star to us is four light years away. If it were to pop out of existence at this very moment, we wouldn't know for another four years. So, in reality, we could be looking at a dead star for years and never know.

Johanna kicks the curb and scowls.

Finnick beats everyone on the swim team by an entire lap.

Dad put too much sugar in the sweet tea again.

There are so many things that we want. I want to see a rainbow. I want Katniss to love me. I want one more breath. I want one more thing on my never-ending bucket list.

A moment.

Katniss.

"Peeta?"

You love me, real or not real?

The answer is obvious.

* * *

**A/N**

Songs featured:

"Teenage Crime" performed by Adrian Lux

"Alone Together" performed by Fall Out Boy

Title taken from "Be Still" performed by The Fray

The final part cannot be formatted quite right on FF, but if you go to AO3, you can see the format with large spaces between text. If you'd like to see it, my AO3 account is under the same name as my name here (Dracoisalooker76) and can be found by clicking the link in my profile.

Again, this story is based off the novel "Before I Die" by Jenny Downham. If you've read it, you'll notice a similar format and pattern to this piece.

Thank you to Prompts In Panem over on tumblr for the opportunity to write three new fics this week.


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